Divine Network
by Setsuna P. Tonperry
Summary: A rather odd fanfic I started writing a few years ago. It's incomplete, but what's there is decent.


The boy sits at a desk in a library, reading. On the floor around him are strewn all manner of books and reading material of all types ... discongruent titles that seem to have nothing to do with each other: Sophie's World, De Civitate Dei, Slayers Reflect, Man and His Symbols, East of Eden, Franny and Zooey, _Evangelion_, Evangelion R, Cat's Cradle, the Talmud, the Gospel of John, the Letters of Paul, Pyramids, Mort ... 

How some of these titles managed to make their way into printed form is anybody's guess. So is what they have in common, whatever that may be.

But put all that aside for now. He's not reading any of those at the moment. Right now, he's reading an battered print-out. It's fuzzy around the edges and battered at the corners, as if he'd been carrying it around with him and taking it out frequently.

Perhaps he has.

He looks up from the print-out and stares at the ceiling awhile, mulling over something. Then he looks back down and shakes his head. 

Sighing, he takes a pen out from behind his ear and scrawls in red ink over the print-out's title.

_This is so old,  
it isn't even funny._

He puts the pen back and considers the paper again.

It's titled "Prologue".

He sighs again and tosses it aside. Turning to the desk and taking the pen in hand once more, he starts to write again in the bright red ink ...

* * *

A demure-looking young woman carrying a basket of flowers hummed quietly to herself as she walked out of the church in the slums of Sector 5, Midgar. Business was booming, since nobody else could grow flowers in the sunless garbage dump that was the slums, and that meant she was the only florist in town. And that also meant that, whenever a fella was feelin' kinda amorous -- or, more likely, had acted like a total dweeb and gotten dropkicked headfirst into the street by his sweetie -- there was only one place to turn to buy a wothwhile gift.

Of course, her fares were fair. First flower for one gil. The price after that was determined by supply and demand -- which is to say, if a customer _supplied_ what she _demanded_, he got flowers. If he didn't, no flowers. And if he mistook her for a newbie prostitute, he got a Guard Stick slammed into a very sensitive spot.

Such was the flower girl of Midgar. Sweet, shrewd ... and, on occasion, very sadistic.

Right now, she was heading on up to the upper plate to hawk her wares where the grass was green, the sun was bright, and the people had money. How she managed to get up there was her little trade secret. She didn't go up too often because of a slight difficulty involving Your Friendly Neighborhood Electric Company and their Talent Scouts, but the attraction of earning money in a photogenic place that didn't smell bad periodically overwhelmed her usually strong stupidity sensors and sent her scrambling up to the pepperoni section of the Rotten Pizza.

Eager to get to the lovely land of moneymongers, she broke into a run down the crowded streets of Slum Sector Five. So did another pedestrian, apparently, for shortly thereafter she bounced off a vaguely cotton-like surface and rebounded back a few feet.

"Ow," said the vaguely cotton-like surface. "Geez, don't you people ever look where you're going?!"

The flower girl staggered and rubbed her head. _Argh ... today is **not** my day._ She turned and glanced at the pedestrian. 

She was a young girl, probably around 15 or so, with short, purple hair that stuck to her head like wet seaweed. She wore a dark red, oversized t-shirt, blue baggy jeans, and a ridiculously large pair of brown boots. On her back sagged a brown canvas backpack. Her skin was very pale, like the average denizen of the slums, but she clearly wasn't from Midgar. She lacked that certain_ je nais se quois _... and while that glaring expression on her face came close, it just wasn't native enough to pass.

"Why don't **you** look where you're going, huh?" said the flower girl. "I mean, look at that! You dumped my whole flower basket!" With a flourish of the arm, she modeled the chaotic floral arrangement on the sidewalk in case the tourist hadn't seen it.

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh! I ... uh ... sorry 'bout that." She blushed and scratched the back of her head with one hand. "I didn't mean to. I was, uh ... looking at the ground. Didn't see you coming ..."

The flower girl squinted at the tourist. _That's an odd eyecolor. Extremely bright green? Where have I seen that before?_

She shrugged it off. "It's okay," she said, smiling and beginning to gather the fallen flowers, "they haven't been damaged too badly. Want to buy a flower?"

"Naw thanks."

"Are you sure? They're only one gil."

"Sorry, don't even have that much."

"Ah, too bad." She gathered up a large handful of fallen flowers. "What brings you to Midgar?"

The girl's eyes widened. "How could you tell I was new to Midgar?"

The young woman laughed. "Lucky guess."

"Ah. Well, I'm here in Midgar to look for a job. If I'm lucky, maybe I won't have to hawk my materia."

Her ears perked up immediately. "Materia, eh? It worth anything..?"

The girl shrugged. "It ain't much. Why, you want to see?"

"Oh, yes, definately ... I'm a bit of a materia connoisseur," she said, smirking. "The rarer it is, the more I like it ..."

"Is that why you have that one in your hair?"

"Huh?" she said, pausing to scratch her head before realizing what the girl was referring to. "Oh, this?" The woman yanked a small, clear orb out of the pink ribbon at the top of her braid and held it up for the girl to see.

"Yeah, that. Odd color ... isn't materia usually tinted?"

"Usually, yes. But this one's ... unusual. And I think it's defunct, too. I mainly keep it around as a memento." With that, she carefully nudged the materia back into its place in the bow, and tightened it securely with a yank on the ends. "So, what about your materia?"

The girl blushed. "Well, like I said, it's not much." Without removing her pack, she reached in and withdrew five shiny, colored orbs. "See? A Bahamut summon, an All, Steal, Thunder, and Ultima. Only five."

The woman's jaw dropped. "Tha..tha.. that All materia's ..._ mastered_!"

She shrugged. "Yeah, that and the Steal and Thunder materia. But the summon and the Ultima aren't really --"

"That doesn't matter, they're strong enough on their own." She blinked. Twice. "Can I, uh ... hold them?"

"Sure, have a ball," said the girl, tossing the materia to the eager flower girl. She held them up to her face, and for a little while it looked like she would just stuff them into her mouth and suck on them like many little yummy jawbreaker candies.

"What happened to the split-off materia?" she asked, eyes devouring the glassy little orbs.

The girl shrugged. "Sold it, I suppose."

"Sold it?" said the woman, furrowing her eyebrows. "Why would anyone sell the _cheaper_ materia?"

"Gotta pack light."

She nodded and hummed. After a pause, she handed the materia back to the girl and grinned. "So, I understand you're looking for a job?"

"Yeah," said the girl, nodding. "Just enough to support mineself on my own. Y'know ... buy food, rent a flat --"

"I know just the job for you!" beamed the woman, cutting her off. 

She stopped and blinked. "Uh ... sorry ma'am, I'm no flower girl." The girl blushed, rolling the materia around in her hands. "I ... don't get along very well with the authorities, y'know?" 

The woman chuckled. "Don't worry, I mean a group of people who'll gladly pay you for your services." She winked and spun her Guard Stick. "I work for them sometimes."

The girl's eyes widened again. "Really? Thanks, Ms. ... uh ..."

She bowed. "Gainsborough, Aerith Gainsborough. And you're..?"

"Bond. James Bond," declared the girl in a high Gongagan accent.

Aerith just smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Bond! Follow me ..."

"James" sputtered a little as her guide thusly spun around and began to skip down the slum street. "B.. b.. b.. but ... oh, goddamnit, this place's too foreign!"

With that, she stuffed her materia back into her sack and ran after the happy skippy flower girl job opportunist. 

* * *

"Whaddya mean, she **seems** nice?" said the dark, massive man with a gun for a right arm.

"Well, Barret, she does seem very nice," said Aerith. 

"Foo'! She's could be a spy fo' Shinra!" 

"I don't think they recruit them that early, Barret," said a young man with spiky blond hair and a weird-looking dark blue uniform. And it was genuinely weird ... especially the pants. Any uniform with balloony pants deserves an honorary membership in the league of "Kooks Clothes".

"Shut up, Spiky Ass. You **_know_** dey's starts recruiting kids into SOLDIER fo' dey in dey 'teens!" 

"Spiky Ass" made no reply. He seemed to be taking this crap in stride. 

"Well," said a tall, dark-haired woman -- maybe the bartender, assuming that the new bartender dress code included wearing tank tops, suspenders, and mini-skirts in any sort of combonation. But then again, a bouncer wouldn't have those ... erm ... _proportions_. "There seems to be only one way to find out." 

"What's dat, Tifa?" 

"Ask her about Shinra." 

"Humph. Awright den." Barret turned around and eyed "James Bond" warily. "Hoowayoo." 

"What?" said she. 

Barret coughed. "I SAID, ***WHO* *AH* *YOU***." 

"Dat sure don't soun' like a question 'bout Shinra to me," quipped the girl. 

"Jus' answer the friggin' question and quit pokin' fun at how I talk." 

"Yes suh." 

Barret glared at her. 

She rolled her eyes. "Just call me Chatty. I'm new to Midgar and I'm looking for a job. That's it." 

"Where yo' from?" 

"None of your beewax." 

"Eva' heard of a comp'ny called 'Shin-Ra'?" 

She scratched her head. "Not much. I think a friend mentioned it once." 

Barret seemed to think there was something funny in this. "Oh ho ho -- yo' seriously mean dat?" 

"Well, yeah. What about it?" 

Barret smiled smugly. "Nothin'. I just find dat HARD to believe." 

"Well, it's true. She said something about Shinra and some guy called 'Sephiroth'." 

Now it was "Spiky Ass"'s turn to be surprised. "Sephiroth? What about him?" 

She shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just a passing mention." 

"Do you even know who Sephiroth is?" asked Tifa. 

Chatty tilted her head to the side. "Not really. Sephiroth ... sounds like a religious name, almost. Is he a religious leader?" 

"Spiky Ass" chuckled. "I guess you could say that." 

Tifa span around and glared at him. "Cloud!" Ah, so that's what "Spiky Ass"'s name was ... 

Cloud held up his hands at shoulder-height, palms forward, as if to say "Hey -- don't shoot me, I'm with stupid." 

"Awright," said Barret, "she's in. She's just too damn stupid to be fakin' it, and dat materia of hers'll be useful even if she's too damn stupid to use it." 

Chatty's eyes narrowed and her expression darkened. "I assure you, I know perfectly well how to use my materia." 

"Yeah, shoo', whadeva'. Let's get goin' now -- we gotta plan dat raid on Shinra or else **nothin's** gonna work our way." 

With that, Barret banged the pinball machine. It lowered and the group descended into AVALANCHE's CPU room.

* * *

_Damnit,_ thought Tseng, _if only he said something, anything -- being yelled at would be so much easier than this cold silence._

Of course, Mr. Shinra never did try to make things easy. 

After a long pause, he finally spoke: 

"You failed. Again." 

Tseng quickly developed a very large sweatdrop. "Well, err ... no, not exac--" 

"The plate above Sector 7 is still standing." 

"Well I'm sorry. Triggering the bomb was Reno's responsibility." 

"You left such an important part of the mission to Reno?" 

"Well, somebody had to go after Aer -- I mean, after the Ancient ..." Tseng winced. 

_Out of the frying pan, into the fire ..._

The President's expression remained unchanged. "You failed there too." 

"I ... I ... sorry Sir, but I didn't know that ... that the ex-SOLDIER would ... jump the helicopter like that ..." 

"You were unaware of Avalanche's traditional gung-ho tactics?" 

"Well, I ... uh ... didn't think --" 

"Hovering the helicopter within five feet of a desperate man physically capable of making the leap is not an action that a thinking man would make." 

Tseng's sweatdrop hit the ground with a large splash. 

"In any case," continued the President, "your oversight has led to two problems that this mission sought to avoid. AVALANCHE still exists, and the Ancient is now one of its members. The likelihood that she would lead Shinra to the Promised Land now is greatly decreased, if not completely obliterated. Under such circumstances, I should not hesitate to fire you." 

_That's it,_ thought Tseng. _I'm gone_ ... 

"However ..." 

... _or maybe not_ ... 

"... the number of Turks currently employed is running at a bare minimum, even seeing as we have hired a new one. Therefore, you will be kept in your current position until the number of Turks has been stabilized ..." 

_He's going to replace me?_

"... at which point you will be tranferred into an Executive Level position." 

"A **WHAT**?!" 

The President grinned. "An Executive Level position ... where you can't do any harm." 

"Oh. I understand, sir." 

"You may go now, Tseng," said Mr. Shinra, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. 

"Yes, sir." 

On his way out, Tseng couldn't help but wonder whether he should be laughing or screaming. _An Executive Level position? 'S the closest thing to hell ..._

* * *

"Ok, 'dis is how it's gonna work," said Barret, "Cloud, Tifa, and me, we go up the levels of Shinra HQ, causin' a ruckus and chaos and stuff to distract security while Chats and Biggs set up them leftover bombs of Jessie's -- God bless 'er so' -- on the first flo'. After dat's done, you give us the signal and we head back down. Y'all got that?" 

Everyone nodded and mumbled in agreement. 

Barret turned to Chatty. "You got dat, kiddo?" 

Chatty scowled. "Kiddo? Crikeys, you sound like --" 

"**YES** or **NO**, kid. Dat's all I'm askin'." 

"Alright, I think I got it." 

"Repeat the plan." 

"Huh? Okay ... um ... you, you, and Spikey --" she said, pointing at Barret, Tifa, and Cloud in that order, "-- form a team and go up through Shinra HQ. After you're up a few floors, you signal me and Biggs and we plant Jessie's bombs on the first floor. When we're done, we signal you guys again and we all get the heck out of there before it blows skyhigh. That good?" 

Cloud nodded. "That sounds about right. But my name's Cloud." 

"No sweat, Spikey!" she returned with a wink. 

Aerith giggled. Cloud rolled his eyes and sighed.

"AHEM," said Barret, "'til then, you guys can go do your own thang." 

"Ain't no thang but a chicken wang," quipped Chatty again. This time Cloud laughed too. 

Barret frowned. "THING, ara'? THING!" 

Everyone laughed and began to clear out of the CPU room below Tifa's Seventh Heaven. Chatty headed toward the lowered Pinball machine on its way back down from bringing Barret and Co. and waited by it for Cloud. 

He shook his head. "Go ahead, Chats ... I'll be up in a minute." 

She shrugged and leaped on the Pinball elevator. "Suit yourself," she said as it rose up. 

He turned and looked around the CPU Room slowly. There was Barret's punching bag, the map on the wall, the wide-screen TV, posters, boxes, cartons -- it didn't seem so much like a secret hideout than the rumpus room of a house. It held so many memories, even for such a newcomer as Cloud. Perhaps it was because of his amnesia, but ...

** Amnesia? Cloud, you know better than that.**

Cloud shook his head and went over to the cluttered, metal-cast table that sat roughly in the middle of the room. It'd been used for nearly everything from planning Reactor bombings to playing checkers and spit. Instinctively, he sat down on the carton that had once been Wedge's seat. 

_"Yeah, well ... you look a little lonely to me. If you ever need someone to talk to, Cloud, I'm here for ya ..."_

He stood up quickly. 

_"You say you don't care, Cloud ... but you remembered **my** name ..."_

Cloud shook his head and, with closed eyes, walked toward what he thought was the Pinball machine. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in front of the computer. Jessie's computer ... 

_"Hey Cloud, whaddya think of my new outfit?"_

_"You look great ... just like a man."_

_"I'm so happy! ... I think ..."_

So many memories ... 

_"I'm sorry, Cloud. It's my fault ... I made your ID special ..."_

He ran a finger down the cold, blank monitor. 

_"Cloud ... it's good to see you one last time ..."_

_"Don't say last!"_

Cloud turned away from the computer. It didn't make sense -- any of it. Still, he stood there, quietly, trying to sort things out into some semblance of order.

** To be quite frank, it's your own fault. You did lie, lies carry far ...**

He ran up to the Pinball elevator and lept onto it, letting it carry him up to the bar where he could, at least, find some sort of comfort.

** You poor drunk bastard ...**

Most of the members of the Raiding Team were now almost finished crawling up the wire to the upper plate. Chatty, who had scrambled up with the first bunch, sat down on the curb. 

_Something doesn't quite add up_, she thought. _If the pillar didn't get bombed, then how the heck did that wire fall into Sector 6? And isn't it a little too convienient that it happens to lead up to Shinra HQ's doorstep?_

"Yo, Chats," yelled Barret, "quit slackin' off. We got a job to do here!" 

Chatty looked up, scowling. "I ain't slackin' off. I'm thinkin'." 

"You? Thinkin'? 'Bout what?" 

"About how this is just too easy." 

"And?" 

"Well? Doesn't that make you suspicious?" 

"Look -- we got no time for dis. Jes' do yer job and don't get yer spunky ass hurt, ok?" 

"Gee Barret," said Chatty monotonously, "I'm glad to see you're so concerned for our safety." 

"Of course he is," piped in Biggs, "We're the most important part of the mission!" 

"And the smallest ..." 

"Which makes us more vulnerable, and thus even more important!" 

Chatty stared at Biggs. The guy happened to be the fiercest looking member of Avalanche, looking quite the part of a stereotypical terrorist bomber ... and here he was, bouncing around like a kid. You'd think _he_ was the newbie, the way he was acting.

She rolled her eyes. Must be veteran shell-shock or something. "Whatever. Let's get going." 

"Hey," said Cloud, poking a blonde spike up through the hole in the pavement, "don't forget me and Tifa. We're still coming up!" 

"What's taking you so long, Spikey? You don't want to be around us?" 

He shook his head slowly. "No ... that's not it. It's just that ... something doesn't seem right about all of this ..." 

"It's just too easy," said Chatty. 

Cloud looked over at Chatty in amazement. "You thought so too?" 

"Yeah. That wire is ... well, it's ..." 

"Too perfectly situated?" 

"Yeah." She turned her head and scratched her shoulder a little. 

Cloud paused. _Maybe she's not so ditzy after all_ ... 

She turned back to Cloud. "You don't think much of me, do you, Spikey?" 

"Um ... no, not really," he said, wondering if she'd somehow read his thoughts. 

Chatty nodded sagely. "If it's 'cause you don't like me callin' you Spikey, just say so and I'll stop. I'm just trying to be friendly ..." 

"Ok, then ... um ... cut it out." 

She shrugged. "If you say so, Cloud." 

"Cloud!" 

"Wha?" 

"Cloud, get out of the way ... I can't get up the wire with you just hanging there." 

"Oh ... right, Tifa," he said, scrambling up onto the plate. Tifa quickly leaped up into the air above the hole in the pavement and landed on her feet, Jackie Chan-style. 

"Jeepers," said Chatty, "do you practice that or something?" 

"Of course I do," said Tifa, "you never know when it'll come in handy." 

"Indeed. You gotta show me how to do that sometime." 

Tifa nodded. "That and the Waterkick, I promise." 

"Okay!" Chatty beamed, "I'll be looking forward to that!" 

Cloud smiled. _Now if only everyone in Avalanche could be that enthusiastic_ ... 

"Awright," said Barret. "Everyone's here. You remember the plan, Chats?"

Chatty sighed. _Man, this guy really thinks I'm a ditz or something_ ...

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "You, Tifa, and Cloud go up the floors distracting security, me and Biggs plant the bombs, and then signal to you guys so you can get the heck out of there. I know this already."

"Well, I'm jes makin' sure." He turned to Tifa and Cloud. "Y'all ready?"

Tifa nodded and tightened the strap on her glove. "All set."

Cloud shifted the grip on his buster sword. "Ready."

Barret nodded. "Then lets kick some Shinra ass!" With that, he burst in through the Shinra HQ entrance with Cloud and Tifa in tow.

"He forgot to ask if _**we**_ were ready," said Biggs, blinking.

"Well," said Chatty, "are we?"

"Yeah, but --"

"Well then, it doesn't matter."

"But --"

"Aagh," said Chatty, imitating Barret, "Stop yer whinin' and git a move on!!"

Biggs nodded and ran in the door. Chatty started to head in, and stopped. Something still didn't feel right about this. She looked up at the massive building before her.

_When I'm done with this mission, it won't be there anymore,_ she thought. _Might as well get a good look at it now._

She stepped back a few yards into the street and stared at the building. On a whim, she saluted. A one-spin salute ending in a flick of the wrist ...

_"That's no salute ... *THIS* is a salute!"_

_ "Smart, but I doubt I could get away with it."_

"Why? Too 'girly' a salute for your likes?"

"No, too difficult. I'd probably wind up slapping myself in the face or something."

She chuckled, reliving the moment. "Yeah ..."

Then she stopped, catching hold of her surroundings again. She was in Midgar, and Kii was not there.

Kii never would be there.

Chatty shook her head. _This is Shinra I'm dealing with, not the Academy. I have to remember that._

After a pause, she nodded and walked into the building. 

* * *

The sun was beginning to set on the western horizon. At Junon, it was a perfect view. After all, it was built directly into the cliff, facing west over the ocean. There wasn't any way you could miss a sunset with a setup like that. Of course, it wasn't any good for sunrises, since that same setup pretty much kept Junon shady until about 10 in the morning or so ... but if you wanted sunrises, you'd probably be better off in Costa Del Sol. Costa Del Sol was directly across the inland sea from Junon, so it basically had the same view in the opposite direction. Good for sunrises, but it was too close to the Corel Mountains to have any sunsets worth anything. So if you wanted to to see a good sunrise and a good sunset in the same day, you'd have to ferry back and forth between Costa Del Sol and Junon. In other words, you'd have to get up early in Costa Del Sol, watch the sun rise, then immediately hop a speedboat to Junon, which might get there in time for you to watch the sun set ... and that would be assuming that the speedboat had a full tank of fuel ... which, chances are, it wouldn't ... and it'd probably get lost at sea on the way ...

In the long run, you were better off just staying put. And Junon was as good a place to stay put as any. You could sleep in until noon and nobody'd give a damn.

Of course, that might also have more to do with being Vice President of Shinra than anything else ...

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!"

"Ugh," mumbled Rufus.

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!"

He pulled the sheets up over his head. "Damn alarm clock ..."

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!"

_Wait a minute_, thought Rufus. _I don't ***have*** an alarm clock_ ...

He sat up in bed and surveyed the scene with a very quick, tired glance about the quarters.

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!" went the PHS on the nightstand.

_Oh, that's it._ He picked up the PHS, flipped it open, and immediately flipped it shut again. _There!_ He put it back on the nightstand and crawled back under the sheets.

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!" it started again after a 30-second hiatus.

"Goddamn cellular PHS thingamajig ..."

"BLEEEEEEEEP!!"

"Alright, alright, I'm answering!" He grabbed the PHS, flipped it open, and held it to his ear. "What the hell is it?!"

"Ah. Good morning, Rufus."

Rufus blinked and sat up in bed again. "Father?"

"I take it you're still in bed. You wouldn't have hung up on me otherwise."

"It's early."

"It's only 9:30."

"Believe me, that's early in Junon."

"I haven't time for trivialities."

"Right, right. What are you calling for, anyway?"

"I want you to be here in Midgar by 2:30. Reno has been hospitalized and I am retiring Tseng, so you need to select at least two new Turks as replacements for the meanwhile."

Rufus scratched his head. "You called me for that?"

"Yes."

"But don't you usually have your secretary handle calls like this?"

"A bagatelle, Rufus."

"What?"

"Never mind. Just be here in five hours. ***CLICK***"

Rufus shut the PHS slowly. _A bagatelle?_ he thought. _What the heck was he talking about?_

He got up out of bed and wandered over to the bathroom in his quarters. He got out his toothbrush and the toothpaste. Then he looked up at the bathroom mirror and squeezed out half the tube in one spurt.

Taped to the mirror was a sheet of plain white office paper with a simple, type-written message on it: 

_Happy 15th Birthday Hilde! (15 pt. ref)  
P.S. Nice pajamas, Rufus._

"'Happy 15th Birthday Hilde'? What kind of a stupid trick is this?" He took down the note from the mirror and flipped it over. 

_Ah, smart move, Rufus ...  
you knew enough to check the other side.  
That's better than most._

He blinked and turned it over again. It still said "Happy 15th Birthday Hilde" and all the rest.

"Great, great ... first the PHS, now this. I should've stayed in bed."

Rufus threw the note in the trash, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, got dressed, and did all those other essentially boring morning things that people do. Vice Presidential mornings are basically the same as any in the basics.

Mm hm. Right.

When he had finished and was his way out, he picked up his shotgun as usual ... and paused.

There was a white note taped to the double barrel. And it had not been there when he had left for the bathroom.

He took the note off the shotgun and read it. Once again, it was a type-written message: 

_Tsk, tsk. That's quite a mess you made back there.  
Didn't your babysitters teach you not to squeeze  
the toothpaste from the middle of the tube?_

He quickly flipped it over. No message on the other side. He turned it back to the side with the message on it and re-read it. Then he folded it up and stuffed it in one of his coat pockets. He went back into the bathroom, fished the first note out of the trash, and re-read that. Then he folded that up too and stuffed it in his pocket with the other one.

Finally, Rufus left his quarters ... after checking the ammunition in his rifle twice. Outside in the hallway, he checked it again. He checked it a third time and hurried out of the building. 

* * *

"Is that the last of them?" asked Biggs.

"No, not yet," said Chatty, eyeing a few headless soldier corpses leftover from the initial charge. "I've still got two more to plant."

"Well, hurry up," he said, heaving himself up onto the receptionist's desk. "I oughta signal Barret and Company before they get too high up, y'know ..."

"Be patient. I'm almost done." Some of the Third Class Soldiers' guns were still equipped on them ...

"Maybe I'll signal early. Just to be safe ..."

"Wait, wait, I'm almost done! Really!" She glanced at Biggs. Too late; he was already pulling out the PHS. On the other hand, he wasn't watching **her** -- in fact, he had turned the other way ...

Chatty slowly wrenched a machine gun from one of the dead soldiers.

Biggs dialed the PHS.

She checked the ammunition. Almost full. Cloud must've killed him pretty quickly.

He flipped open the PHS and held it to his ear.

She lifted the machine gun up and aimed at the back of his head.

"Hey, Barret? Yeah, it's Biggs. Listen, we're --"

She squinted and pulled the trigger. He might've known what hit him, but boy was he surprised when it did ... 

* * *

Seventh Heaven was busy as usual. The whole darn place was swarming with customers, and Aerith was at the bar serving them. She'd promised Tifa that she'd look after the bar. Marlene was "mixing drinks" behind the counter, under the watch of Aerith. She'd promised Barret that she'd look after her, too.

To be quite honest, she was slightly pissed about that. Everyone seemed to think she was made of pink-tinted crystal or something.

"Heeeeeeeey, lil' goil," slurred one of the customers at the counter, "Couldja mix m'anotha dwinky-poo?"

"Sure!" beamed Marlene, who set about making just about the only mixed drink a four-year-old can make -- the Glass with Everything In It. Basically, she took everything on the counters and poured it into a glass she'd set on the floor. Um ... actually, make that the _general vicinity_ of the glass ...

"Err, no, Marlene," Aerith said, rushing over to clean up, "I think he's had enough."

"I 'ab not!"

She turned to the counter. "Yes, you have. You've had a bit ***too*** much, actually ..."

"I 'ab not! I'm poifectly sobah!" He burped. "'Scuse me!"

She smiled benevolently. "Whatever you say, sir ..." With that, she ducked down to sop up Marlene's mess with a towel.

_Drunk weirdo_, she thought. _How does Tifa put up with this?_

Marlene stood by quietly. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Mad? Of course not. But you really shouldn't do this sort of thing without ask--" She stopped wiping with the towel and stared into space.

"Miss Aerith? Is something wrong?"

"Yes, I think so ..." Aerith slumped back against the counter shelving, knocking over a cognac bottle or two.

"What is it, Miss Aerith? Did I do something?"

She smiled weakly. "No."

"Then what is it?" She blinked innocently.

Aerith sat up. "Come over here, Marlene." She patted her lap.

Marlene ran over and sat on Aerith's lap.

Aerith hugged her and cuddled her head. "Now, promise me you won't cry ..."

"Why? Has something happened?"

"Yes. I think ... somebody in the raiding party just died."

Marlene blinked. "Was it Papa?"

"I don't know," Aerith said, hugging Marlene tighter. "It could have been Barret. It could have been Tifa, or Cloud, or Biggs, or the new girl ..."

For a moment, she remembered the girl's vivid green eyes. _No one else had ever had eyes like that before,_ she thought._ No one except for Mama ..._

Aerith scowled. _Yes, Mama. Damn it, she won't leave me alone._

Marlene sniffed.

"Oh, don't cry now," said Aerith, all sweet and comforting again, "Whoever it was is one with the Lifestream ..."

"So he'll never be lonely again, right?"

"Right." She decided not to go into how it might have been Tifa who died. Marlene didn't need that.

"HEY!!" yelled a female customer across the bar. "THE SERVICE IN THIS PLACE IS LOUSY!"

Aerith sighed and slid Marlene off her lap. "Stay here, Marlene." She stood up, grabbed her staff, and marched over to the offending woman.

"Goddamn fifteen minute wait," grumbled the large leather-strapped mass of flesh that was apparently the cause of the outburst. "Oh, there you are. Finally."

"We don't tolerate that sort of behavior around here," Aerith said.

"And I don't tolerate this sort of service. A fifteen minute wait! I mean, really! What kind of a bar --"

She was promptly tossed out into the street and off her bum. It took less than fifteen minutes, so that sort of evened things off.

"There," said Aerith, wiping off her staff on a tablecloth.

The bar customers watched in awe as she calmly returned to the mess behind the counter. 

* * *

Chatty lowered the gun and very nearly sighed with relief. Shooting a person you knew was hard enough to do. Shooting a friendly person was even harder.

Everything was very quiet now that Biggs wasn't chattering his head off anymore. _Funny that_, she thought. _He should've had this nickname, not me._

Suddenly, she became aware of the sound of faint swearing. She bolted upright and spun around, looking for the source. The soldiers were dead, the commanders were dead, that goddamn receptionist was dead, and Biggs's head was completely blown off ...

She froze. Down on the floor by the mess of Biggs's blown brains, there was the PHS. Undamaged, and with Barret apparently shouting his lungs out at the other end.

Chatty screamed and fired at it.

The swearing and ebonics grew louder and more vehement.

She screamed again for good measure and reopened fire, not stopping until the PHS exploded with a large **PIFF**! Then she sighed, partly from relief and partly from dissappointment. _Great, just great. I can't believe I let that happen. This spoils everything ..._

Her plan had been to set up the bombs, kill Biggs, and get out of the building without signaling the rest of the raiding party. However, she had waited too long to kill Biggs, and now everyone else would be rushing down from the upper floors to save or avenge them. There was no time to continue the bomb setup.

She turned and looked over the soldiers. Too damaged; there was no way she could figure out what they looked like before Cloud had done away with them. The receptionist was full of holes from Barret, and so were most of the commanders ... no, wait ... there was one that Tifa had killed. He was pretty bashed up, but still in pretty good condition for a corpse.

Chatty ran over and examined him more closely. _Male, thirty-ish, middling height, hair color ... can't see the hair color._ She took the red uniform hat off his head. _Light ashy brown hair color, eyes ... bloodshot eyes with hazel irises. But they likely weren't bloodshot before Tifa_. She chuckled. _Yes, I think I can do this fast enough_.

She stood back and began the process ... racking with pain, since she was rushing it. Hair, clothes, boots, eyes, face, all at once ... and when she was done, she was a he. Not that he expected anyone to check or anything, but hey, you never know about this sort of thing.

He clapped the hat onto his head and rifled through the corpse's pockets.

_Woo-hoo! A wallet! Alright, who am I now ...?_ He pulled out the commander's Shinra Identification Card. _"Lieutanent Commander Sokotto Littlefield". Sokotto, eh? It sounds like Scott ..._

He winced. _Damn, I've got a name like Kii's mentor now. As if I didn't have enough problems._

"Lt. Com. Littlefield" sighed, stepped back, and fired at the corpse's face with the machine gun. It didn't take long to destroy the mutual resemblance between them.

He stuffed the SIC back into the wallet and checked the ammunition. _Half gone ... wow, these Shinra Machine Guns can hold a lot, can't they?_ He chuckled and ran into the elevator. 

_Insert keycard ......._

He pulled out the wallet, took out a small card with a magnetic strip on one side, and swiped it through the elevator access reader. 

_Keycard 61_

Access confirmed up to Level 61.

Enter destination Level. 

He punched in "61". 

_Destination 61 confirmed._

Have a nice day.

The elevator doors closed and the elevator began to lift.

* * *

"Goddamn Shinra bastards," muttered Barret as he clicked the PHS shut.

"I can't believe it," said Tifa, wringing her hands, "I thought we got them all. We did get them all, didn't we Cloud?"

Cloud said nothing.

"Cloud?"

_She screamed,_ he thought. _She didn't scream when they fired at first; she screamed right before ... before ... before what? Did they kill her? Did they kill her and Biggs ... like they did Jessie and Wedge?_ His eyes watered at the idea.

"Cloud? Cloud, are you okay?"

He shook his head and blinked away a tear.

"Be strong, Cloud," said Tifa, putting an arm around his shoulder. "We can't lose hope now."

"I'm not gonna let 'dis slide," Barret fumed. "I'm goin' down there and I'm checkin' 'dis out. ***And*** whoopin' the ass of the damn Shinra bastards that did 'dis ... you wit' me?"

Cloud's face settled into something like determination. "Yes."

Tifa nodded. "Of course."

"Awright den, we're takin' the el'vator down."

They ran into the elevator and Barret slammed the down button. 

_ERROR: Destination Level not entered_

Enter destination Level.

Quietly swearing to himself, he punched in "01" and slammed the down button again.

_Destination 01 confirmed._

Have a nice day.

"**I'll** give ya a 'nice day', you @#$%in' Shinra c***s***er," grumbled Barret as the elevator doors closed.

Tifa checked the materia in her gloves. Cloud just stared at the doors.

Barret turned to the others. "Y'all ready for a fight now?"

"I'm ready," said Tifa.

"An' you, spikey ass?"

Cloud nodded. "Ready as I've ever been."

"Uh huh. Well, I hope so, you bein' the one wit' the Restore materia and all ..."

"Restore materia? Where?"

"It's on yer big friggin' sword, you bird brain!"

"Oh."

"Really, I think some uh dat hair uh yers is gone to yer head ..."

"Well, Barret, that ***is*** where his hair tends to be."

"Yeah ... like a kid."

"HEY!!"

Before much could come from that, the elevator bell went "ding ding ding".

"First floor: dishwashers, software, and @#$%in' Shinra c***s***ers," announced Tifa as the doors opened.

"Oh, you shu'up." Barret ran out and down the staircase. He stopped when he caught sight of Biggs. "Goddamn!!"

"They got them, didn't they?" said Tifa as she ran to Barret's side.

"Well, dey sure got Biggs," he replied, pointing to Biggs's corpse.

She winced. Seeing Biggs's corpse and the back of Biggs's head blown off across the room were not particularly nice sights. "What about Chatty?"

"I dunno. I don't see 'er down there."

"What?!" Cloud ran past Barret down to the floor, frantic.

"She idn't there. Chats isn't there fo' some reason."

He started feeling a little queasy.

Tifa scratched her head. "But she'd have to be, if they'd killed her."

"Meebe dey didn't kill 'er?"

She nodded. "They must've arrested her."

Now he was feeling downright sick ...

"But why'd dey arrest her? I mean, she's jes' a ki-- whoa, Cloud!"

Tifa paled considerably. "Ugh ... now I feel like throwing up too ..."

"Damn, don't you start wit' da pukin' now!" Barret ran down the stairs to Cloud. "Man ... you okay, spikey?"

"Ugh," said the pale green Cloud.

"Goddamn it ... what happened?"

"I don't know," he said, straightening up. "It all just ... came up."

"Huh. Now 'dis I'd be expectin' from Marlene or somebody'd don't fight much, like Miss Aerith ... but you, you're Mr. Tough Ex-Soldier! And yer pukin' yer brains out all the same ..."

"Barret, quit picking on Cloud."

"Wha, am I 'sposed to say it's yer pea soup's fault? I mean, dem leftovers git left out fer a LONG time sometimes ..."

Tifa sweatdropped. "It's not my pea soup!"

"How dya know? It coulda been!"

"IT WASN'T THE SOUP!"

Cloud glanced at the now bickering Barret and Tifa ...

_ "The blood of the Ancients courses through my veins ..."_

"Yes, Mother. Let's go to the Promised Land."

"With her superior knowledge and magic, Mother --"

He shook his head to clear it, and then ran up past Tifa and Barret into the elevator.

"Hey! Spikey boy! Wait up!" Barret followed him into the elevator.

"Wait a minute -- what are you guys doing?"

"Whaddya think we're doin'? We're goin' after Chats!"

"What?! Are you crazy?"

"Meebe so, but we ain't abandoning nobody. Idn't that right, Cloud?"

Cloud nodded. "Right."

"I guess that means I ought to come too." She shook her head and entered the elevator. The doors closed and they were back on their way ...

* * *

I need a bodyguard." 

"Now now, Mr. Vice President," said the commander in red. "The security of Shinra HQ will be more than en--" 

"You don't seem to get what I'm saying," Rufus interrupted. "A motley crew of third level soldiers and commanders is not going to cut it. I have reason to believe that I'm being stalked." 

The commander blinked. "Stalked?" 

"Yes, yes, stalked." Rufus pulled the two notes from his pocket and handed them over to the commander. 

He read them for a few seconds and chuckled. "Well, sir, I think you just need to learn how to take a joke ..." 

"Who's giving the orders around here?" 

The commander developed a large sweatdrop. "You, sir ..." 

"So if I say I need a bodyguard, I need a bodyguard. Am I right?" 

"Yes sir. Excuse me, sir." He grabbed the sweatdrop off the back of his head and flung it into a nearby garbage can. 

Rufus frowned. "Are you done?" 

"I am now, sir." He scratched the back of his head. "Um ... I take it you want an animal bodyguard, right?" 

"Yes." 

The commander grinned. "One that can't type, right?" 

Rufus frowned. "What's your name, Commander?" 

_Uh oh_, thought the commander. _I'm in for it ... better make up a name or else ..._

"Sokotto Littlefield, sir," said the commander, sweatdropping again. 

Rufus nodded. "I'll have to remember that." 

_ Oh, damn ... now my brother-in-law's going to be pissed ... why'd I say **his** name, anyway?_

"Sooooo ... I think I'll go file for that bodyguard now," said the commander, slipping off. 

Rufus chuckled. _"Sokotto Littlefield" ... ha! I never heard such an obvious con in my life. Well, I guess I'll just have to look this one up ..._ He ran his hand through his hair and froze when there was a crinkle of paper. _What the ...?_ He snatched the folded piece of paper out from its place behind his ear. _When did this get there?_

He blushed and looked around. Fortunately, nobody seemed to gawking; it must have arrived pretty recently. _Whew ..._

He unfolded the note. It was typewritten, as were the others before it:

_Nobody makes a fool of Rufus Shinra, ne?_

Oh, and I should mention that you make a

* * *

mighty funny figure standing there with a

* * *

piece of paper stuck behind your ear ... 

Rufus fumed. _Why that ... that ... damn, who is this?_ He re-read the note. _No identification, but ... what kind of a word is "ne"?_

He folded the note up, stuffed it in his pocket, and realized that the commander had left with the other two notes. 

He winced. _There goes my evidence ..._

* * *

"And that was 'Can I Get A Wark-Wark?", by Warky Mark and Tupac de Chocobo! Next, 'Black Hole Chocobo', by Warky Mar--" 

A commander in red flipped the power switch on the radio to "off". 

"There's nothing good on the radio anymore," he sighed. 

"I dunno," said the security guard, "I kinda like Warky Mark's stuff." 

"Are you crazy? He sucks!" 

"Does not!" 

"Does too!" 

"Does not!" 

"Does too!" 

Unfortunately, this very intelligent agrument was interrupted by the elevator stopping and letting out a very shell-shocked and blood-splattered commander. 

"Sokotto?" said the first commander, "What the hell happened to you?" 

He twitched. 

"Commander Littlefield?" said the security guard, "Are you okay?" 

"Sokotto" glanced down at the soldier issue machine gun he was carrying and winced. A couple of off-duty receptionists started edging away. 

The other commander noticed this. "Hey! What are you guys doing?! This is Sokotto we're dealing with, not some psychopathic mass murderer!" He glanced at "Sokotto". "Um ... I'm not mistaken on that, right?" 

"Sokotto" looked up from his gun and blinked. "I ... uh ... no. I'm me." 

Notice that that is not technically a lie. 

"Well? What the hell happened?" 

He sighed. "There was a break-in down on Level 1." 

The security guard jumped a few feet in shock. "A BREAK-IN?! By who?" 

"Hoodlums," said the other commander. 

"I think it was AVALANCHE," said "Sokotto". 

"See? Hoodlums." 

"What'd they look like?" 

"Well, um ... there was this big, black guy with a gun in his right arm ... and a black-haired, red-eyed martial artist in a mini skirt and tank top --" 

"You always do have an eye for the ladies, don't you?" said the commander with a smirk. 

"Sokotto" blushed. 

"Eh ...well, were there any others?" 

"Uh, yeah. There was another guy and a purple-haired girl and an ex-SOLDIER." 

The security guard jumped again. "AN EX-SOLDIER?! Who?" 

"Joe," said the other commander, "Watch that jumping reflex. It's getting freaky." 

"Sorry." 

The commander turned back to "Sokotto". "Are you certain he was an ex-Soldier?" 

He nodded. "Oh yeah. There's no mistaking it. He had the big friggin' sword and everything." 

"Yeah, but did he know how to use it?" 

"There's a couple of headless guys downstairs that can testify to that." 

The commander scratched his head. "What class was he?" 

"Um ... I don't know really. What class is navy blue?" 

His eyes widened. "Holy shit ... that's First Class!" 

"Aie!" said Joe the security guard, "We're dead meat!" 

"But ... they didn't get in, did they?" 

"Well, a few did. I couldn't shoot them all, y'know." 

"Who ***did*** you get, anyway?" 

"Err, some guy," said "Sokotto". "'Scuse me just a sec -- I ***SO*** have to pee right now, it's not even funny ..."

The other commander chuckled. "You didn't wet your pants under the stress? Wow ... you're tougher than I'd thought, Littlefield!"

"Sokotto" fumed. "Hewlett -- talk later, bathroom **_now_**. Else you ***will*** regret it."

Hewlett sniffed. "Forgotten again? It's around the cor--"

There was a sound like _brrrrrrzzzvvvvmmm_ and a red blur.

"--ner. God, he really _did_ have to go."

* * *

Aerith dragged the last few drunkards out of the bar and locked the door, officially closing Seventh Heaven for the night. She sighed and glanced over at Marlene napping in the corner.

_Finally_, she thought, smiling. _I'm alone and I can do what I want._

** Is that so, dearest?**

Her face became weary again. _You again, Mama?_

** Yes, indeed. You've been neglecting the flowers in the Church, lately. Picking far too many, too ...**

_ I need the money, Mama._

**Is that so?** The voice was reproachful. **And what for, may I ask?**

Aerith tried to clear her mind in time, but it was too late.

** WHAT?! You want one of those dreadful things?!**

_ They're perfectly safe, Mama, I swear --_

** But you're a good girl! A good little girl wouldn't want one of those!**

_ But Mama ..._

** This is the last time I leave you alone and make my rounds in the Lifestream. The corruptible ideas that get planted in children's heads these days ... really..! I'm never leaving you again!**

Aerith bit her lip and wandered over to the bar counter.

** You're not getting yourself a drink, are you? Bad Aerith, bad! Act like a lady! Ladies don't drink!**

She winced at her mother's shrill voice and grabbed a bottle.

_ To Hell with ladies_, she replied, and downed a swig of sake.

* * *

"Sokotto Littlefield" dashed into the Mens bathroom and into a stall. He locked it and hugged his machine gun.

"This is too much," he wheezed. And then he caught sight of the raven in the toilet bowl.

He blinked. He glanced around, then back at the toilet bowl.

There still was a raven in it, staring straight back up at him with gimlet eyes.

_Nevermore_, said the raven.

"Uh ..."

_ Symbolism. Gotta love it. Obtuse it may be, but it ain't always high-brow._

"Wait a minute ... it's .. you?"

_ Sharper than ever, eh, dear student of mine?_

"But --"

_ Don't talk aloud. Just think._

Like this?

Yes.

What are you doing here? I haven't finished yet.

Oh, yes you have. You succeeded the very moment you set foot in this city.

"Sokotto"'s eyes widened.

_ The universe is reborn. God is dead, long live God. And you, my dear student, are no longer necessary. You know what that means, yes?_

He shivered.

_ Good. _The raven's eyes twinkled. _Now do it._

He nodded, unlocked the stall, and walked out of the bathroom.

Hewlett waved. "Hey, that was quick. Didn't have to go so badly, eh?" "Sokotto" shook his head and stared out the large picture window at one end of the level.

Joe sat up from his place. "Something wrong, Commander?"

He walked up to the window and looked down through it.

The security guard glanced back to Commander Hewlett. Hewlett cleared his throat. "If it's those hoodlums, I wouldn't worry about them if I were you. Level 60's pretty darn solid in the security area ..."

He pointed his gun at the window and fired.

Shards of glass shrapnel went flying. Hewlett cried out and covered his face with his arm. Joe only jumped to his feet, since the shards of glass shrapnel were flying_ away_ from the building and thusly_ not_ towards them.

"Commander, what the HELL are you doing?!"

"Sokotto" shot him one sad glance over his shoulder, and stepped through the jagged hole in the glass.

Joe screamed and ran to the window. He stared out it awhile, mouth gaping open.

Commander Hewlett uncovered his eyes and glanced back at Joe. "What now?"

"He's ... sir, he's dead."

Hewlett stood up, slowly walked over to stand at the window beside Joe, and looked down. He winced at the sight. "What an awful way to go."

Neither one heard the toilet flush.

* * *

Most people upon meeting Aerith Gainsborough and noting her alternatingly world-weary and flirtatious personality assume that it's the result of hearing the constant, pained cries of the planet -- that is, weary when aware of the cries, and flirtatious when desperate to get away from them.

The truth is far from that. Fact is, the cries of the planet fade into the distance after about 4 years or so, rather like traffic noise. The flirtatiousness is her natural attitude, and the weariness is from having her mother nag her about it literally every waking moment of her life.

** And you will not get your ears pierced! **cried Ifalna from the surrounding air.** They're an announcement to the world that you're a hooker, that's what they are!**

_ Shurr zzing_, thought Aerith to her mother. _Juzzt laige ping drezzes._

** Pink dresses are proper! Far more proper than what girls are wearing these days ... you have to set an example in this town!**

She took another swig from the sake bottle.

** You're a disgrace, you know that? Gallivanting around after that freakish punk ... he's a slave of Jenova's, I hope you know ...**

_ Dun care. You dun laige 'im, 'n dat's enough --_ hiccup -- _fur me._

** But he's a puppet of the Virus from the Sky!**

_ Whadduz it madder? I dun care ... he's juzzt a guy. _She smirked. _Ezaidz, I laige sommun bedder, anyway._

** Oh? And who would that --**

Grinning devilishly, Aerith released a viciously rabid thought from the wells of her memory. Ifalna screamed with shock.

** You ... you little demon! You thought that just to bother me! Oh, oh, oh!**

_ Deal wid it, lady._

* * *

"How's that butter and sugar coming?"

"Not easy... the butter's still a bit frozen. Couldn't you have thawed it out a little first?"

"If I did that, it'd be a puddle of melted sugar-butter by the time I got it in the main batter. Put a little more elbow-grease into it.... ack! Tseng, I said elbow-grease, not pulverize it!"

"Eh heh... sorry, Ms. Gainborough." He sweatdropped and tilted his head so that the drop wouldn't fall into the bowl.

It's a mistaken belief that Aerith was Tseng's only connection to the Gainsborough household. Sure, they were friends, but he'd grown up in the area and gotten to know Elmyra first.

The Gainsborough family had actually been very prominent in the years before the war. They had been THE lead manufacturer of cars and trucks. Somehow, despite the fact that there were no roads between cities and towns, they did remarkably well. By the time Elmyra's husband had finally sold out to the Shinra Company, the money that he and his parents before him had accumulated was well more than enough for a middle-aged couple to live on their own by... or, as it turned out, enough for just a middle-aged woman to live by.

She was rather eccentric, really, when you took that into consideration. Elmyra could more than simply afford to live on the upper plate, and still she preferred to live in the Slums. Granted, she lived in the equivalent of a Slum Mansion with an Actual Backyard, but that was still the slums. She took to the kids of the area immediately, and they to her... and although the only one of them that ever came back to check up on her was leader of the Turks, she didn't seem to mind.

Tseng, naturally, would never explain this to the other Turks. Heck, he already knew what their reaction to would be if he tried to explain that afternoon.

Reno would say something like: "Ohohoho..! So -- you've been 'baking' 'brownies' 'with' 'Aerith's' 'mother'... really, now, I'd been _wondering_ why--"

And then, of course, Reno would have to DIE.

Rude would remain completely silent and stone-faced, and Tseng would probably keep talking, trying to get a response of_ some_ sort out of him. It probably wouldn't be until he was publically psychoanalyzing himself that he'd remember Rude just doesn't talk.

And Elena... well, it didn't matter so much what Elena thought of that than the likelyhood that she'd have spilled the information to everyone in earshot in under half-an-hour. She was a wonderful Turk, yes, but she also talked too much. 


End file.
